


The Touch of An Angel

by SnakesandTea



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Wings, Angst, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Eventual Smut, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Preening Wings, Sex, Smut, Touch-Starved, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, Wing Oil, Wingfic, Wings, preening
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:00:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23755798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnakesandTea/pseuds/SnakesandTea
Summary: Aziraphale learns that he and Crowley are far more similar that he first thought. Both of them are painfully touch-starved. He plans to remedy that.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 100





	1. The Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, Logan!! I hope you enjoy!! [Chapters are going to be posted very sporadically, but I hope to have everything done by the 23rd]

Aziraphale stroked Crowley’s hair as the demon rested his head in his lap. He’d noticed that the serpent had been rather clingy since they moved into the cottage. “You act as though you’ve not been held in centuries.”

The demon mumbled, “I haven’t.” He stared at his phone, aimlessly scrolling through an article regarding the mysterious disappearance of Atlantis.

“Oh, Crowley. I had no idea. I—I’m so sorry, my dear.” His chest ached for his serpent, who, upon answering his question, had burrowed deeper into the Angel’s lap. Aziraphale was no stranger to the sensation which humans referred to ‘touch-starvation.’ Upstairs, contrary to popular belief, hadn’t been the most hospitable or loving. Upon learning he was chosen to be the angel on earth, his heart soared. Aziraphale knew most humans would be created to love each other and they would thrive as long as they did so. Particularly in said regard, he felt humans were superior to angels. Heaven was pristine, too sterile for anything as complicated and messy as true love. Unfortunately, it seemed, Hell was just the opposite.

“’S all right, Angel,” he said dismissively.

“No, it isn’t!” The angel fussed. It wasn’t right that Crowley had gone centuries without proper touch or care. Never mind he hadn’t had such luxuries either. The ability to feel love was not the same as being its recipient. Feeling love was a rather hollow sensation – a ghost of what Aziraphale wished he was able to experience for himself. Well, he looked at the demon sprawled across his lap, perhaps he had a whisper of true understanding. Ever since The Beginning, his heart raced each time Crowley appeared by his side. As long as his demon was nearby, Aziraphale knew he was home.

He shrugged. “Can’t change the past.” Crowley set his phone aside and focused on feigning nonchalance: a gargantuan task when facing a principality who had known him for 6000 years. He rarely allowed himself to dwell on the loathsome aspects of hell. Physically it was every bit as drafty and foul-smelling as Hastur claimed. But Crowley found the absence of trust worse than any punishment he’d endured. Hell operated solely on fear, so, of course, demons didn’t trust each other. Worse still, was the lack of touch. Demons rarely, if ever, touched – and more often than not, it took the form of biting. He secretly treasured every time Aziraphale grazed his arm or their fingertips brushed together. Crowley kept track of those microsecond attentions, which, according to his calculations, totaled around an hour and a half. Admittedly, that had been his favorite hour and a half, at least, prior to living with his angel.

“Yes, well, that’s true. But we can change the future.”

Crowley finally met his eyes, intrigued. “What?” His heart raced, thrumming with the potential implications.

“While I can’t alter your past, perhaps, I could better your future – with your permission, of course,” he added hastily. 

“Yeah, sure, Angel, but how?” The demon sat up and faced Aziraphale. His mouth went dry as he tried to comprehend exactly what the angel was suggesting.

“I suppose that is dependent on what you feel you need, my dear.”

He’d never given it much thought. Hell frowned on weakness – and sniveling in ones sleep over needing a hug was definitely considered weak. Plus, Crowley wasn’t sure what the angel would deem ‘crossing the line.’ He could hardly imagine his prim and proper principality wanting to entertain his fantasies.

The demon’s prolonged silence ignited the always-smoldering spark of worry in Aziraphale. He studied the ginger’s unreadable expression. “Crowley?” The angel asked gently, fearing he had overstepped. After 6000 years he and his demon were finally living under the same roof, and in under a week, he’d already managed to put him off. No, no – he could fix this; he was an angel for Heaven’s sake! “Oh, dear boy, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Aziraphale babbled nervously. “Of course, we won’t change anything if that is what you’d prefer! I apologize if I upset you. Truly, we… we could pretend as though I never spoke if that would alleviate some of your anxiety – “

Troubled rambling drew him from his thoughts. “Angel! Angel, please,” he said, putting a gentle hand on the broad chest. “I’m not mad.” Crowley chose his words carefully. “I’m trying to understand what it is, exactly, you’re offering.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Anything you need, Crowley.” Despite the sincerity in his words, his statement still seemed rather vague. The angel extrapolated, “Whether that be: increased couch time, longer physical displays of affection, intimacy, sexual intercourse, lengthier conversations, or whatever you’d like best, I’m more than happy to accommodate you, my dear.”

Crowley thought he heard wrong. His tongue felt far too big for his mouth as he asked, “Did- did you say ‘intercourse’?” 

“Yes, of course.” The angel replied. “Why?” His voice softened and he cocked his head. “Do you not enjoy it?”

“No! I mean, um,” Crowley blushed “I don’t know…”

Perplexed, he inquired, “You don’t know?”

The demon looked away. “Never done it.”

Shocked, he fumbled, “But I thought your ex-lot was big on temptations and that sort of thing?” Aziraphale had just assumed Crowley was experienced in regard to coitus.

He couldn’t meet Aziraphale’s eyes. “Doesn’t necessarily mean sex.” Although there were a great many things Crowley wished to try, he only wanted to experience them with a certain principality. And, until moments ago, those fantasies were merely a cruel indulgence. Confirmation that his angel was amiable to such activities, well, that changed things.

“Oh.”

Crowley could have sworn he saw the angel’s face fall. “But I’ve always wanted to try.”

“Oh!” Came the delighted reply. Aziraphale beamed. There was no sense in hiding his elation; they were on their own side, after all. if Crowley wanted to try, then try they would!


	2. Feather and Fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize that it took so long for me to get this posted. Biggest sorry to Logan for making your present so late). Anyway! Hope y’all enjoy!

They spent the rest of the night eagerly discussing everything Crowley wished to try. Aziraphale listened without judgement and offered encouragement any time his demon faltered. He was rather impressed that Crowley had such widespread desires; and, that everything he’d requested was more than amiable to the angel. Before they concluded their intimate discussion, Aziraphale asked, “My dear, how long has it been since you’ve been preened?”

“’Been preened’? Angel, you make it sound as though I’ve got a wing-stylist.” His reply came out snarkier than he’d intended. Crowley’s voice softened considerably as he added, “I’ve only ever preened myself. Haven’t done it in a while.” His cheeks burned. Typically, the demon’s wings were in near-perfect condition. But he’d slacked off a bit when he started caring for Warlock, and had completely neglected them since the ‘wrong boy’ nonsense began.

“Would you like me to preen you?”

“Ngk!” His breath caught at thought of Aziraphale touching his wings. Crowley met his gaze, the serpentine eyes shimmering with astonishment. “Y-yes.” Demons didn’t preen each other – it would be a strange world if demons went around trusting each other with such an intimate endeavor. Though, he couldn’t imagine upstairs was much more hospitable. His angel helped him get situated on the floor and gave him a pillow to place beneath his chest. He couldn’t imagine why Aziraphale wanted to take care of his wings. Crowley resented the damn things; their charred appearance reminded him of everything he lost in the Fall. He cursed every pitch-colored feather he found in his flat, spewing so much vulgarity that his plants stopped shaking. Crowley hesitantly whispered, “You’re sure you want to?”

“Of course, my dear.” He assured. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t wish to.” Aziraphale worried he’d done something wrong. Maybe his demon had changed his mind. He kept the disappointment from his voice and asked, “Do you still want me to preen you?”

Crowley nodded. “Bloody things just remind me of the Fall.” He trusted his angel and desperately wanted to feel his hands in his feathers. “Please preen me?”

Aziraphale flashed him a bright smile. “Of course! Show me your wings, please,” he instructed. Aziraphale gasped as the beautiful wings unfurled. They splayed behind the demon, reaching ever outward like unpainted night skies. “Stunning,” he breathed. The angel straddled his demon, placing one knee on either side of his buttocks, putting himself in the ideal position to preen him properly. He slid his hand along the sleek, obsidian wing and marveled at the silkiness of his feathers. Perhaps Crowley lied about his negligence. Just as Aziraphale opened his mouth to comment, he found the first snag, a clump of old feathers tangled with the new.

Crowley snarled and snapped his wing out of the angel’s hand. He whipped around, teeth barred.

Aziraphale sat back on his heels and patiently folded his hands in his lap. “I’m sorry, dear boy,” he said, unruffled by the growling demon.

He quickly realized his mistake and turned as red as his hair. “Sorry, Angel.” His wings drooped behind him, nervous Aziraphale would retract his offer after pulling a stunt like that.

“That’s all right, my dear. I’ll wait until you’re ready. Just let me know.” He sat stock still until Crowley resumed his position and gave him an affirmative nod. Aziraphale straddled him once more and gently worked deeper into his feathers, his perfectly manicured fingers lightly grazing the tender skin just beneath. The angel untangled knot after knot and a pile of lackluster, dull feathers grew by his knees.

Crowley nearly whined. He didn’t deserve to have the strong, caring, capable fingers of his principality gingerly picking apart years of his neglect. Small whimpers of delight escaped his lips as Aziraphale brushed a sensitive bit of his wing. He clutched the pillow tighter and resented the heat blossoming in his cheeks. Crowley was very aware of Aziraphale’s thighs occasionally brushing his ass as his hands explored his feathers. He bit his bottom lip, feeling himself start to harden. Fuck. Not now! He’d acquired a penis when he fell and it tended to pick the absolute worst times to make itself known. Crowley cringed, recalling just how painful it was getting an erection in a suit of armor. But the pleasure a prick could bring outweighed the agony. He recalled the night he envisioned Aziraphale as he stroked his erection; in mere seconds he exploded with his first orgasm. After that momentous occasion, Crowley pleasured himself countless times to thoughts of his angel in compromising situations. But nothing compared to the dizzying feeling of Aziraphale’s hand in his feathers. Fortunately, he was laying on his stomach and he hoped the angel was none the wiser.

Aziraphale massaged his oil glands and spread the slick substance through his wing. His practiced fingers followed the natural flow of the onyx feathers. He kept working, adoring the pleased noises his demon was making. Aziraphale smiled broadly as the demon’s feathers involuntarily puffed up.

Crowley’s blush deepened and he mumbled, “never done that before.” A primal need urged him to rut against the rug and lose himself in the intoxicating friction. He took a deep breath, trying to push past his carnal desires.

“It’s all right, dear boy” the angel assured, his voice calm and gentle. “It is merely a sign you’re comfortable,” Aziraphale continued, massaging his underwing. The display of his demon’s trust brought a tightness to his throat. He worked silently for a few minutes as he managed his emotions. “Thank you for trusting me, Crowley,” he said softly, moving to the other wing. “I’m sorry you feel so negatively toward your wings. But if I may say something?”

The demon, so blissfully suspended in arousal, he nearly missed the question. “Sure, angel, anything.” Crowley loved getting lost in the timbre of his voice almost as much as he reveled in feeling those skilled hands.

“I find them utterly magnificent, my dear. You mentioned, once, that you had only asked questions of The Almighty. Admittedly, at first, I thought that, well, questioning Her was an egregious error. However, over the years, you posed a query here or there, which had me thinking – and I dare say, questioning as well. My dear, what I’m attempting, so poorly, to articulate is: I believe it was rather harsh of Her to Fell you for mere inquiries. While, from what I understand, Falling hurt like the dickens – and, of course, I’m not trying to minimize your pain…” He rambled and searched for the words hanging just out of reach. “I wish you could see your wings as I do: a gorgeous symbol of doing what I always couldn’t – voicing your mind, asking when you didn’t understand or agree, challenging authority… My dear, it’s admirable; and I’m proud of you.” 

He cradled the revelation in the fog of his mind. “Thank you,” his voice shook, whether from his angel’s attentions or the mess of emotions swirling in his head, he wasn’t sure. The demon shifted slightly as his cock grew even harder. Crowley closed his eyes and melted beneath Aziraphale’s expert ministrations. All too soon, he felt those talented fingers vacate his feathers. The demon opened his mouth to complain, but promptly shut it as pouty, ethereal lips planted a kiss on his wing. A sensational jolt of electric desire coursed through him. Shit! It hurt so good. Crowley hissed, “Ssssssssstop.” Oh, Someone, he wanted to feel that again. His cock ached, painfully trapped by unforgiving denim. He groaned.

“My dear, is it such a crime to appreciate the work of art you are?” He asked and pressed another soft kiss to the midnight feathers. Aziraphale lingered a moment longer, inhaling the musky fragrance of his demon’s freshly oiled wings.

“It’s only fair if I get to do the same to you,” Crowley replied and rolled over, wanting to watch the great white wings unfold.

The angel’s eyebrows raised, noting the rather large erection his demon sported. “Very well, I suppose it is only fair.” Aziraphale took a deep breath and sighed as his wings unfurled behind him. He gave them a few tentative flutters, being cooped up so long usually made them quite stiff. A few loose feathers floated to the ground.

Cowley’s mouth parted in speechless awe as he beheld the divine beauty above him. He caught a delicate feather and reverently pressed it to his lips. His forked tongue flicked out for a quick sniff. Oh—fuck! The celestial wings smelled of old books, leather, and a hint of sweetness, just like their bearer. Cowley shuddered. “Angel,” his voice cracked.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m… I’m fine.”

Aziraphale rested his hand on the demon’s ribs. “Is this okay?” He inquired tentatively.

“Yeah.” Crowley gasped as he felt the angel’s lips soft and hot against his chest.

“And this?” He asked.

Crowley squirmed under the simple touches. Precum leaked into his boxers and he moaned, “Oh, Someone, yes, Angel!”

“My stunning serpent of Eden,” Aziraphale murmured, peppering kisses down his demon’s body. He touched his lips to the tender skin just above Crowley’s waistband and leaned back to admire his beautiful partner. Aziraphale smiled. His demon lay beneath him, wings spayed to his sides, sweat glistening on his temples, his mouth parted in a pleasured sigh.

“Ah – Angel!” He whined.

Gently, he took the glasses from his face and set them aside. “Now I can see your lovely eyes.” Aziraphale kissed him softly. Slowly, the demon’s lips parted and he felt the forked tongue brush against his own. He deepened the kiss, wanting to taste him again as his fingers twisted in the ginger hair.

Crowley moaned into the kiss. He slipped a hand between them and stroked himself through his jeans. Smooth fingers covered his, matching his motions. He met Aziraphale’s gaze. “Please.”

The angel smiled. “Of course, my dear.” He leaned back on his knees and undid his jeans. Once the pesky things were off, only a thin layer of silk stood between him and his demon’s penis. He lightly grazed his thumb across the milky spot of precum and grinned as another spurt seeped through.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whimpered. He’d waited centuries for this moment, to feel his angel’s touch, and he wouldn’t have it foiled by a scrap of silk. “Please!” He groaned as Aziraphale cupped him, the heat intoxicating around his erection.

“Patience,” he chided lightly. Aziraphale slipped his fingers beneath the waistband, teasing him a moment more before tugging his underwear down. He gasped softly and beheld the sheer succulence of the demon's cock. From leaking tip to testes nestled in ginger hair, Crowley was perfect. “Oh, my dear.” Aziraphale glided his hand along the magnificent length, enjoying the grunts he elicited from his demon. “You’re stunning, Crowley, absolutely stunning.”

His head spun with the praise, flinging all coherent thought from his grasp. He grunted his appreciation as his legs turned to jelly under the angel. Crowley groped at Aziraphale’s trousers, trying, unsuccessfully, to remove the copious layers between them.

The principality made quick work of his clothes with a snap of his fingers. He knelt above his demon stark naked, his erection standing proudly at attention.

Crowley’s jaw nearly dropped. His angel was exquisite. From his blonde curls and round cherub cheeks, to his plump belly and thick, throbbing cock nestled between generous thighs – oh Someone, he wanted to bite the tender skin – and his wings! He couldn’t forget the principality’s picturesque wings, spread behind him as an ivory curtain of sublime purity – Every inch of his angel was absolutely gorgeous.

“I usually prefer to undress without miracles. However, it seemed appropriate—” A slender hand cupped his cheek. “Oh—” Their mouths crushed together, melting against each other. Aziraphale’s hands traveled along his sides, detouring to lightly brush his dark feathers. The demon shivered beneath him as he traced the v of the angular hips, along the patch of coarse hair, and paused before his entrance. “Crowley.” Aziraphale met the unfocused, serpentine eyes. “May I stretch you?”

He whined and put his legs up on the angel’s shoulder. “Please.”

Aziraphale inserted a slick finger in his hole, gently working him as their lips met again. His other hand tangled in the demon’s hair, lightly pulling the ginger locks. He was rewarded by Crowley moaning his appreciation; the glorious sound muffled by their kiss. Aziraphale steadily worked him, adding lubricated fingers as he loosened. Finally, he positioned himself and slowly inched in. Oh—his demon was deliciously tight. His hips ached to go faster, enticing him with promises of mind-blowing euphoria. Aziraphale refrained. He patiently waited for Crowley to relax and adjust to the pressure before giving him a bit more. “That’s it, my dear,” he encouraged, meeting his eyes.

The demon grunted as his angel pushed deeper. Damn, he was thick! A euphoric cocktail of pain and pleasure burst through him with each thrust. Crowley nodded for him to keep going, tears springing to his eyes as the angel’s testicles slapped against his ass. Aziraphale moved in him and he saw stars as rapturous pleasure exploded in his nether regions. Ngk! This—this was better than he’d ever imagined. “Thank you!” He screamed, unsure for what, exactly, but it felt right.

Aziraphale held his demon by the hips as he sped up, his thumbs digging into his pelvis. “Oh, Crowley.” He threw his head back and shouted, “my dear Crowley!”

His name uttered like a naughty word, illicit and clandestine between ethereal lips. “Use my real one, Angel,” he panted.

Aziraphale unearthed the name, so many years lost, finally reborn on his tongue in the throes of passion. His shouts of pleasure fell into languages lost to the ages as he made love to his cherished demon. He grunted and thrusted hard His hips bucked ever faster, chasing a spectacular release.

Crowley whined as his testes tightened. Oh, fuck he was close! So bloody close! He heard his ancient name in that ethereal timber once again and came undone. He groaned and shuddered with his orgasm. His seed splatted across their stomachs, his thick, hot streaks on their skin.

Aziraphale shouted as his demon’s muscles clench around his cock. The breathtaking pressure pushed him over the edge. “Ah—Crowley!” Aziraphale rocked through his orgasm, each pulse sending another sensational aftershock through his body. He grunted as his ejaculate filled his demon’s ass. Pleasantly spent, the angel pulled out and lay beside the ginger on the floor.

Crowley rolled over, snuggled close, and rest his cheek atop Aziraphale’s chest.

“Was that all right?” Aziraphale asked softly, draping a hand on his back.

“Angel, that was…” He fumbled for the words to properly express himself to his bibliophile. “Ngk!”

He chuckled and snapped his fingers, vanishing the mess. “I’m glad, my dear” Aziraphale wrapped his arms tightly around his demon, cradling him closer as his wings enveloped them in a cocoon of white feathers.

Crowley opened an eye and smiled approvingly before he drifted off, basking in the safety of his angel’s embrace.


End file.
